Rokujou
by yumi michiyo
Summary: All he ever wanted to do was to make her happy; it was the only thing a cursed monk like himself had to offer. A short story told with six different emotions. Sango/Miroku. WARNING: Character death.
1. One: Ikari

**Author's Note: **This story is inspired by **Aprill May**'s incredible work, _**Void**_.

**Introduction: **While throwing up names for a new awards community, I stumbled upon the Japanese concept of _rokujou_, the six emotions: anger, pleasure, hatred, joy, sorrow and love. I just had to write a (very short) story based on them.

Anger

Miroku walked along the dusty road, his sandals kicking up small clouds of dust. It was an uncommonly hot day in Feudal Japan even for noon as the Inu-tachi were traveling. The monk was sweating bullets in his dark-coloured, heavy robes which unhelpfully absorbed a lot of the heat.

Though they didn't feel the heat as badly as he did, it was having an effect on the others. Shippou was sprawled over Kagome's shoulder as Kirara was on Sango, both limp and panting. Sweat trickled down the faces of both the girls, sticky and worn from exhaustion.

As they went, the rhythmic jangling of his shakujou accompanying his every footstep began to lull him to sleep.

_I wonder what will happen first, _he thought. _Will I cook to death, or will I collapse and die of heatstroke?_

"Inuyasha," came Kagome's voice all of a sudden, "can we stop for a while? The heat is terrible!" Miroku could have kissed her.

The red-garbed hanyou, the self-appointed leader of their little group stopped and eyed her. "It isn't that bad," he snapped. "We have plenty of ground to cover before nightfall anyway; we can't afford to stop for a break."

Before Kagome could open her mouth to argue, Miroku interrupted smoothly. "I agree with Kagome-sama, Inuyasha. We'll end up falling sick if we continue to push ourselves. Let's just rest for an hour or so, until the sun has dipped a little, before we resume our journey."

The hanyou snorted, finding himself outnumbered before giving way gracelessly. "Feh. Fine, then. Weak humans. We'll stop for a while."

Kagome gave Miroku a grateful look as they moved off the dry, cracked road into the welcoming shade offered by the forest.

Every one of the travelers noticeably perked up once they were out of the sun's glare. "Let's find a stream!" squealed Shippou excitedly, hopping off Kagome's shoulder and scampering into the undergrowth. Kirara sat up as well, leaping from her perch and dashing to join him.

Miroku smiled indulgently, watching as the pair of bushy tails disappeared. The robes suddenly seemed to weigh heavier on him than they usually did and he ached to take them off. Perhaps he would go for a swim, or maybe even entice Sango and Kagome to join him. Why not? It was hot enough as it was.

"What're you smiling about, monk?" growled Inuyasha from his side: In his daydreaming, Miroku had not noticed his presence.

The monk shook his head, grin still in place. "Nothing. Nothing at all, Inuyasha."

"Keh." Unconvinced, the hanyou switched his attentions from his closest male friend to Kagome. She walked slightly ahead of the men with Sango, the two engaged in a private conversation. Both their moods had improved, thanks to the break and the prospective cool stream Shippou had set off to find.

The last time he had calculated, Miroku had been traveling with Inuyasha and Kagome for about a year now. While seemingly nowhere near to completing their shared quest to defeat Naraku and restore the Shikon jewel, they had made remarkable progress despite the size of their motley crew.

It was him who had set them all on Naraku in the first place. His race against time to close his Kazaana had given them a goal, a direction and pressure to beat the clock. With a tinge of guilt, Miroku realized that although they all had their own reasons for pursuing Naraku, he was the one responsible for their constant tension, the ever-present shadow of death dogging their footsteps.

Miroku wished his friends would stop worrying for him; he had accepted the inevitability of his death long ago. He could sense that they were more concerned then he was. The young monk had decided, years ago, that he would enjoy his life the best he could as he traveled on his mission to destroy his family's curse. In fact, Miroku wished that they would have more concern for themselves.

There was proud, brash Inuyasha: he wanted the Shikon jewel to become a full demon so he could be worthy of his father, though Miroku doubted his goal remained the same, now that he had fallen for Kagome. Stubborn, determined and blunt, the hanyou was a fierce but loyal friend.

Kagome, the warm-hearted miko from the future, was a mystery to all except him. He would not even try to understand her – aren't all men destined not to understand women? – and just accepted her for who she was without question. She was in love with Inuyasha as well, but their feelings for each other remained unexpressed.

Shippou, the orphaned kitsune, who had clearly adopted Kagome as his surrogate mother and looked up to Inuyasha as an older brother. He was still innocent, despite all that he had witnessed in his short life.

And there was Sango.

Never had Miroku met a woman so strong and yet blessed with rare beauty; a study in contradictions. She could dispatch a horde of demons in a wink of an eye then blush prettily like a village maiden whenever he paid her a simple compliment. A fearsome, implacable warrior with only one weakness: her younger brother Kohaku. He served Naraku as a mindless puppet, all his memories erased.

She would cry herself to sleep every night when they encountered Kohaku, her sobs muffled by her blanket. He would stay awake, listening to her tears and wish he could do something, anything.

Not just for her, even. For all of them, for staying at his side and treating him as a friend.

"Oi, Miroku! Daydreaming again?"

Inuyasha's strident voice jolted Miroku out of his musings and brought him back to the world. They were standing beside a pleasant river, large enough to swim in. Shippou had already stripped and was splashing in the water.

"Come on, guys!" Laughing, he slapped the surface of the water, wetting the adults.

Kagome quickly shod her shoes and socks, dipping her feet into the water. "Ah, that feels good!" she sighed. "Come on, Sango-chan!"

At her friend's insistent tugging, the slayer reluctantly shod her sandals and sat on the riverbank. Slowly, a smile spread over her face.

"You're right, Kagome-chan, this is wonderful."

In answer, the younger girl put her hand into the water and scooped some of it at her friend. A playful water fight ensued, Shippou joining in with gusto.

Miroku turned to Inuyasha, a salacious gleam in his eye. "That looks like fun. What say we join them, Inuyasha?"

He needed no further encouragement, the dog demon baring his fangs in an identical grin. The two boys went further downriver to cross it, so as not to alarm the girls. Crouching on the opposite bank and rolling up their sleeves on the pretence of washing their hands, they dunked their arms into the stream, sending huge waves over the girls, soaking them.

"Inuyasha!" shrieked Kagome, staring down in horror at her wet white blouse. "Sit!"

He was pulled downwards into the water with an almighty splash which drenched her and Sango again.

Miroku fell back on the grass, laughing at the miserable expressions on their faces. Inuyasha's was particularly priceless as he climbed out of the water, looking like a drowned rat.

"Houshi-sama!" shouted Sango, barely able to keep a smirk from her face as she climbed into the water and waded over to him. "You look terribly dry. That's not good, on such a hot day like this."

"Oh?" He sat up, his lips twitching, eyes alight with mischief.

She grabbed his hands and pulled, yanking him into the cool water. When the splash he created had subsided somewhat, a few ripples were left on the surface of the water.

"Houshi-sama?" Sango waited, her brow furrowing anxiously. Still Miroku did not surface.

Suddenly, she felt a familiar hand on her ass.

"You lecher!"

She spun around to try and slap him but was too slow, her movements hampered by the water. Quick as a flash, he had dived back into the water and swum off to safety.

"One of the first things I learned back at the temple was how to swim," he remarked cheerfully, wringing out his robes on the riverbank. "I had to; otherwise if I slipped and fell as I meditated under the waterfall, I'd drown. Not a pleasant way to go."

She climbed out of the water, her cheeks burning with anger and stood over him. Hiraikotsu was clutched firmly in one hand.

Miroku let her whack him with her weapon, laying half-dazed on the ground as he watched her stalk off back to Kagome's side.

"That idiot pervert," she huffed. "Why can't he keep his hands to himself?"

The afore-mentioned pervert tentatively rubbed the growing lump on his skull, his fingers gingerly exploring the sore area.

For a man like Miroku, it was definitely well-worth the pain to run his fingers over that wondrous butt. He could never grow bored of or be deterred by Sango's ass.

An absent smile in place, he sat up and began fumbling with the knot of his kesa, untying it and taking the heavy cloth off his body.

A spluttering sound came from where the girls were.

"H – Houshi-sama! What do you think you're doing?"

"My clothes are soaked, Sango," he answered nonchalantly, now working with the ties of his black koromo. "I need to dry them, I can't shake myself dry like Inuyasha."

He gestured in the direction of the hanyou, who was on all fours, shaking himself in a doglike fashion. Kagome got safely out of range of the flying droplets and rummaged in her backpack to find a change of clothes.

"Hey, once you're all dry, we're setting off again," announced Inuyasha. Kagome stared at him.

"Can we eat lunch first?"

Inuyasha's ears perked up at the mention of food, though he kept the scowl on his face.

"Feh. Alright."

Miroku smirked. For all his bluster, it was really Kagome who in charge. Now dressed in only his thin under kimono, he removed the top, leaving the pants and fundoshi in place, walking downstream to find a convenient place to hang his clothes.

As he spread the thick material over the rocks, he could not help but to heave a sigh. It had been a foolish mistake to let himself get wet, even if it was for the sake of entertaining Sango. The koromo and kesa would not dry quickly and he had to hope that the mildewed smell of improperly dried clothes would not linger.

Returning to the others, he found Kagome dressed in a fresh set of her strange kimono, toweling Shippou dry. Sango, surprisingly, was still clad in her wet clothes.

"Sango, won't you get out of those wet clothes?" he called. "You'll fall sick."

She leveled a fierce glare at him. "You pervert."

He held up his hands in the universal sign of peace. "Really, such accusations are uncalled for. I'm merely concerned about your welfare."

Kagome took Sango by the hand. "Here, Sango-chan, I have some clothes for you to wear."

She shook her head. "Thank you, Kagome-chan, but I can easily wear my slayer suit while I wait for my clothes to dry." Picking up her blue carrying cloth, she walked off into the woods for some privacy.

Miroku watched her go, a tinge of regret on his face. Kagome sighed and shook her head, letting Shippou run off before she attended to herself.

"Where's Inuyasha?" he asked, trying to lift the awkward silence.

"Hunting. You know, Miroku-sama, you shouldn't do that to Sango-chan."

He blinked in surprise. "Hmm?"

"… You care about her, don't you?"

Miroku smiled. "Of course I do. I care about you too, Kagome-sama." His hand snaked out towards her ass but was thwarted by a lightning-quick snap of her towel.

"Ow!"

"That's not what I meant, you incorrigible pervert," she huffed. "Oh, never mind. Why do I even bother?"

Kagome turned her back on him as Sango emerged from the woods. She had opted to leave her armour plates in the carrying cloth, sheathed from head to toe in form-fitting black.

He gulped inaudibly. The outfit left very little to his imagination.

"Don't even think about it, you lecher," she warned him, going over to lay out her wet kimono with Kagome's clothes. "Unless you feel like losing a hand."

"I would be honored to lose it to you, Lady Sango," he smiled.

She growled at him, her face bright pink.

Inuyasha returned from hunting to shoot an irritated look at him. "Your skull must be damned thick if you keep risking your neck like that, bouzu." He tossed the game – two rabbits – at Kagome. She in turn thrust them at Miroku.

"Here, Miroku-sama; keep your hands occupied."

He went down to the river to clean, gut the rabbits and chop the meat up into bite-size pieces.

_Slice._

The image of laughing, sopping wet Sango filled his mind every time he looked at the calm water.

_Chop._

He had not seen her so carefree in such a long time. Sango's happiness was infectious and even now, little over an hour later, it still made him smile.

_Dice._

If only there was a way to keep her happy. Naraku had taken away so much, dooming her to a life spent in pursuit of revenge.

He blinked, finally noticing the meat under his hands had turned into mince.

"Miroku-sama?" called Kagome from the fire. "Are you done…?"

She eyed him strangely as he deposited the mince into the pot but bit her lip, deciding not to say anything.

Shippou and Kirara drowsed by the fire, worn out by the exertions of playing in the water. Kagome knelt by the fire, stirring the contents of the pot and adding seasonings now and then. Sango and Inuyasha had started a discussion about fighting, of all things, leaving him to his own thoughts.

"It's strength that wins fights!" insisted the hanyou.

Sango shook her head, her unbound hair fluttering over her shoulders. "Not necessarily. Skill tips the balance. Brute force channeled wrongly loses battles."

"Food's ready!" interrupted Kagome cheerfully, passing around the bowls.

Miroku took his gratefully and ate with little fuss, not noticing the little quizzical looks Kagome kept shooting at him. The monk's attention was mostly focused on Sango.

Guarded violet eyes watched her every move as she ate and continued to argue genially with the dog demon; the tilt of her head when she pondered a point, the merry sparkle of her eye as she refuted him, her tinkling laughter when Inuyasha finally conceded defeat and hunched over his food, grumbling inaudibly. Kagome had to cheer him up with another helping of stew.

When they had finished, the monk got to his feet, dusting off his pants and walked off to retrieve his clothes. Kagome shuffled over to Sango once he was gone.

"Hey, Sango-chan, don't you notice anything strange about Miroku-sama?"

The slayer eyed her friend suspiciously. "Not really much from usual," she said skeptically. "Why do you ask?"

"He seems rather… _dejected_, don't you think?"

Sango harrumphed, a sound which made Inuyasha's ears twitch in mild curiosity.

"That pervert, he's probably unhappy he didn't get to grope me multiple times today!"

The younger girl heaved another long sigh, then smiled and shook her head. "Oh… never mind."

There was no point in working on the slayer when she was still angry at Miroku.

**Author's Note: **In case you were wondering, the rabbits in this chapter were intended as a warning for the plot bunnies hovering around my house.

-glares-


	2. Two: Kairaku

Pleasure

They resumed the journey not long after they had eaten. By this time, mercifully, the sun was a lot less intense than earlier and they were able to walk in relative ease.

Miroku let his mind wander, as he usually did, shifting his attention to the girl walking at his side.

She was still angry at him, he surmised, from the tightness of her lips, the setting of her eyebrows and the way she refused to meet his gaze. Nevertheless, he had to know for sure.

"Sango?"

The slayer's mouth tightened a fraction and she looked away. The monk heaved a sigh.

"Sango, I'm sorry about earlier."

Her answer was to stomp off ahead.

Kagome fell back to pat him sympathetically on the shoulder. "Don't look so crushed, Miroku-sama. She'll forgive you eventually, she always does."

She dropped her voice. "Though I think she shouldn't."

Miroku pretended not to hear the last sentence, staring after the massive outline of Hiraikotsu wistfully. "I shouldn't have groped her just now," he complained.

"You shouldn't have groped her _ever_." Kagome groaned.

The school girl gave up, walking faster to catch up with her female friend.

The monk fell silent, deep in thought and remained that way for the rest of the day.

***************************************************************************************************************

That night, Inuyasha and Kagome disappeared off into the wood on some errand after Shippou had gone to sleep, leaving the monk and the slayer conveniently alone together.

Sango approached Miroku as he sat beside the fire. The monk was engrossed with making new ofuda to add to his arsenal, the brush moving up and down the slips of paper in elegant strokes. Now and then, he paused to dip his brush in his inkstone.

"Houshi-sama?"

His head jerked up and he smiled pleasantly up at her. "Yes, Sango?"

"I… just…" She had her hands clasped neatly in front of her green skirt, the fingers fidgeting nervously.

"Sit down." Miroku patted the grass on his left, returning his attentions back to his work.

Sango knelt there, her hands continuing their nervous dance in her lap.

"Houshi-sama… I…" she tried again.

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a lopsided grin. "Sango, there's no need to feel awkward here."

She bit her lip, watching him scrawl another kanji character and hold up his work for inspection.

"I'm sorry for hitting you earlier. And for being angry at you the whole day. I misinterpreted your concern for me," she managed, her cheeks magenta.

He made no reply, taking out another slip of paper. He scrutinized it before moving his brush over it.

Her face furious red, Sango made to get up and walk away but was stopped by his voice.

"There is really nothing to apologize for, Sango, because I forgave you a long time ago."

The girl froze, her entire body becoming rigid.

He laughed softly, reaching out to tug on her sleeve. "Why don't you stay? We can talk, if you want."

"I would like that," she said softly. "Provided, of course, it's just talking."

Sango received a smirk as a reply. This time, however, she smiled back.

Miroku finished another ofuda with a flourish and set it to one side with the others to let them dry.

"What does that one say?"

"Mmm?" He looked at her, brows knitting in mild confusion.

She blushed slightly and pointed to the row of wet ofuda. "You know, all this time I've been traveling with you and I never bothered to ask you about your ofuda."

"Oh!" His face cleared and he beamed. "They have extracts from the Buddhist sutras written on them."

Sango bent over to squint at one which he held out for her. "They don't really look like words," she commented, staring at the elegant hills and valleys of the still-damp characters. "More like… a painting."

Miroku looked pleased, much to her bewilderment. "That's because I use the 'running' style of Chinese calligraphy. I'm glad you said that, that's how they're supposed to appear."

He pushed his inkstone and brush over to her. "Would you like to try?"

The slayer's head jerked up, a flush darkening her features. "M – me?"

"Why not?" The monk pulled out a fresh slip of paper and placed it front of her. "Besides, I've never seen you write before."

She reluctantly picked up the brush and traced a few experimental lines on the paper. Finally, she wrote a pair of characters, the tip of the brush moving in short, neat strokes.

The monk squinted down at the paper. "Sango. Your name." He made a sound of approval at the compact characters. "Your handwriting's nice. Very neat. Rather masculine, though. A man taught you?" he added, tapping the thick, boxy lines.

Sango blinked at him in astonishment. "Not bad, Houshi-sama. It was my father who taught me to read and write."

A veil descended over her features as she put the brush back against the inkstone. "But it was me who taught Kohaku."

She had brought up the taboo subject. Miroku furrowed his eyebrows, thinking of the best way to comfort her as she stared fixedly ahead at nothing in particular.

"Sango, I…"

"No, I'm sorry." She shook her head furiously, her hair cascading over her face, hiding it from him. "I shouldn't get so upset all the time."

A shaky laugh. "It's just that sometimes, it's hard to face reality."

Sango noticed a flurry of movement at the corner of her eye which distracted her. He was waving the paper around, trying to get her attention.

"May I… keep this?"

The strange question startled her. Sango lifted her head, peering at his earnest face. "You can, but it's ugly, Houshi-sama. Why would you want it anyway?"

Miroku smirked, blowing on it to dry the ink before folding the paper neatly and tucking it into the folds of his robes. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Sango."

She blushed. He shifted away, back to her, to check on his ofuda, giving her the opportunity to discreetly regain her self-composure. Satisfied with his work, he drew out a ratty length of string and bound them together, stowing the entire bundle in another fold of his robes.

When he was done, he leaned back and sighed. "Sango, look at me."

She did so, turning to face him reluctantly.

"Can… can I ask you to do something for me?" he asked suddenly.

Sango gave a start, completely thrown off. She was expecting more of his words of wisdom, some consoling advice, maybe even a grope. "Hah?"

"Just this once, and I'll never ask again. Please?" He looked ridiculous, a little-boy grin plastered on his face, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. Sango could not help but to find him adorable.

She smiled, despite herself. "Alright. What?"

"I want you to trust me."

The hesitant smile instantly faded. "W – what?"

"Trust me. I know you don't. And you shouldn't too, I know I'm not exactly worthy of your trust" – Sango blushed a little – "but I would like you to trust me, just this once."

She eyed him nervously. "I… I trust you. But those hands of yours better not roam anywhere," she added snappishly.

He came closer, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. The muscles underneath his fingers tensed but soon relaxed. Miroku peered over her shoulder and chuckled softly. The slayer had her eyes screwed shut, her mouth set into a tense line, as though expecting the worst.

"Sango, relax. You trust me, don't you?" His breath tickled her ear and Sango squirmed.

"I do. I just don't trust those hands of yours. I'm starting to think this is a bad idea," she mumbled.

She caught her breath as his fingers trailed through her hair, loosening it from her ponytail and shaking it out.

"Houshi-sama…!" Sango's hands flew up to her head and Miroku promptly snatched her wrists.

"You said you'd trust me," he teased, returning her hands to her lap.

"Yes, but…" she grumbled. "What are you doing to my hair?"

"Wait."

Grumbling under her breath, the slayer reluctantly clenched her fists in her lap. Miroku ignored her, combing her silky brown tresses with his fingers. Finally satisfied, he began gathering a handful of strands, twisting them together expertly.

"Houshi-sama, are you braiding my hair?" Sango was amazed at how this man managed to spring surprise after surprise on her.

_It seems I don't know him as well as he knows me, _she thought rather guiltily.

Now that she thought about it, whenever they talked about personal matters, it was mostly about herself. He would smile and listen as she told him about life in the demon slayers' village and anecdotes about her childhood. Sometimes, when she was in the mood, she would talk about Kohaku without getting upset. Miroku was a good listener, seemingly knowing when to say the right thing at the right time and she never felt overly depressed after talking with him.

"Finished." He said cheerfully, giving her braid a playful flick.

Sango inclined her head, sweeping her hair over her neck and inspecting it. The entire braid was tight and well-knotted, secured at the end in an elaborate knot with her own white ribbon.

"Very professional," she said approvingly, watching him beam. "Where did you learn to dress hair like that?"

Miroku wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. "Years ago, when I was a boy. Before I was old enough to do the temple chores, Mushin-sama was far too lazy to do them, that drunken old sot."

"He employed a lady from a neighboring village, Suzume-san to clean the temple, cook our meals, all those unpleasant chores nobody wanted to do as well as teach me to do them so I could take over from her when I got a bit older, that cheapskate."

Sango giggled. Despite the light, sarcastic tone he used, Miroku's fondness for the man who had raised him was clear.

"She wasn't very pretty, poor thing and so she never bothered much about her appearance. I'd offer to do her hair, and she'd tell Mushin-sama that I was meditating under the waterfall when I was really playing…"

"Mind you, it was really nice of her, considering how my early attempts turned out."

The mental image of her monk as a little boy, his little fingers fumbling with his housekeeper's hair, tongue sticking out as he worked popped into Sango's mind abruptly with absolute clarity and she let out a giggle. Miroku certainly had a natural flair for story-telling.

Sango's next words slipped out before she knew it. "You know, Houshi-sama, you've never told me about yourself before this."

"Hmmm?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Sango could feel her face growing hot yet again in so many minutes. "I mean… you always listen to me when I talk about myself or Kohaku but I've never heard you talk about yourself."

Suddenly, his gaze seemed too piercing for her and she was forced to look down at the ground.

Miroku's eyes flickered. "Why would you want to know about me?" Much to Sango's horror, a lecherous glint was creeping into his eyes. "I'd much rather know more about you."

"Houshi-sama!" she hissed. "Why do you have to be so perverted all the time?"

The carefree mood dissipated. Already emotionally volatile, she stood and made to leave.

"You know, I actually enjoy spending time with you, Houshi-sama. Not with the pervert or the lecher, but with Miroku."

She walked away, leaving him with a crushed look on his face. Sango told herself she could not care less, even though Miroku's visage was burned into her mind.

Before she had taken five steps, she felt a gentle pressure on her arm holding her back.

"Sango, wait." Miroku's pleading voice in her ear stopped her cold. She tried in vain to continue walking but found her rebellious legs refused to move.

The young woman debated with herself on what she should do next. She was sorely tempted to slap him, although he had really done nothing to deserve it; after all, it was her standard resolution to most of her dealings with him whenever he threatened to bypass her emotional barriers into her heart.

This time, though, it was different. There was no turning back. Now that she had said too much, there was no further harm in saying a bit more.

"No, Houshi-sama," she said coldly. Miroku's head jerked back, as though he had been slapped. "Not this time."

The normally verbose monk was, for the first time in all the days and months he had known Sango, left speechless.

"Why do you keep doing this to me – us, Houshi-sama? Every time when I think I'm growing closer to you, I feel like you're pushing me away."

"Sango. I…"

_Sango, I've been doing that for both our sakes, _thought Miroku bitterly. _I'm scared too._

"… Won't you listen to what I have to say?" he murmured, only half-expecting her to agree.

Sango ducked her head, seemingly shielding herself from him.

A barely perceptible nod of her head. The monk breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

"Look at me."

Slowly, so as not to startle her, Miroku put his finger and thumb on her chin and nudged it upward. He did it all gently, his violet eyes telling her wordlessly that if she wanted, she could push him away.

Sango let herself be guided by his hands, the anger in her brown eyes dissipating to be replaced by ambivalence.

"I'm sorry. You deserve better than this." He regarded her solemnly, his boyish face belying a sudden maturity of a man who had experienced more than a lifetime's worth of struggle. "I can't let anything happen to you. I'd never forgive myself, do you understand me?"

"Miroku…" She let his name slip from her lips, so astounded she was by his honesty. There was no flirting, no teasing, no light-hearted banter. Miroku was being completely serious and candid with her.

"The reason why I don't tell you anything about myself is because I forget. I listen to you tell me about a happier time long ago and I lose myself. Seeing you happy makes me happy. It's the little things like this that give me pleasure, Sango."

Miroku released her suddenly, leaving her weak and shaking, biting his lip as though realizing he had said too much. Emotion flooded his features as he smiled at her.

"I'm… I'm glad you said my name. It means more to me than you would think."

Without another word, he left her there, flushed and overwhelmed.

_It's the little things like this that give me pleasure, Sango._

There was no doubt he had been smiling when he walked away; a genuine smile untainted by lechery.

Now what was she supposed to think of him?

Sango ran both hands over her braid in exasperation. She should have just slapped him when she had the chance.

**Author's Note: **I noticed the chapters keep going off the theme and I have to (unsuccessfully) rein them in. Gah, who knew this could be so difficult?


	3. Three: Nikushimi

Hatred

Sango avoided Miroku for a while after that awkward encounter. He did not mind: in fact, the monk was secretly glad.

He needed time alone away from her, to think about what he had said to her. What they both had said.

His words had spilled out without their usual polish. It was far from his usual carefully crafted speech and it irked him.

Then again, Miroku had never been able to think coherently when Sango was that close to him.

The rest of their traveling companions seemed to pick up on the _leave-me-alone_ vibes the pair were radiating and mostly left them to their own devices. Lately, Kagome and Inuyasha seemed to be spending a lot of time alone together, holding long, hushed conversations after Shippou had dozed off.

_I actually enjoy spending time with you, Houshi-sama. Not with the pervert or the lecher, but with Miroku._

Along with his reticence came a stop to his perverted activity, now that he knew how much it affected her. It was a small price to pay for her peace of mind.

It was for her now he threw himself into his quest to destroy Naraku with greater urgency.

The way ahead was not easy; the demon always appeared to have gotten stronger in every encounter. His incarnations Kagura and Kanna dogged the Inu-tachi relentlessly.

And there was the tricky business of Kohaku.

Frustration ran high whenever the boy showed up on some mission; Inuyasha was forced to hold back for fear of hurting him, Kagome, always the first to sense his presence, became tongue-tied and nervous. Sango became helpless and was depressed for some time after each meeting.

The Inu-tachi were following a new lead. One of the villages they passed through on their travels told them rumours of a monk in the far north, a man whose spiritual powers far exceeded that of a normal man. His newfound powers had manifested almost overnight, a detail which tipped them off to the probable location of another shard of the Shikon jewel.

It had taken them a week to get there. Finally, they stood outside a walled fortress, much like Sango's village. The main gate was open, a young woman with a basket about to walk in.

Miroku stepped forward, ignoring the glare shot his way by Sango. "Pardon me, miss, but – "

"Eyaaagh!" shrieked the girl, looking past him and turning pale as she pointed a shaking finger at Inuyasha. "Demons!"

As if by magic, people began appearing out of their huts. "Houshi-sama! Quick, take the girls and run in!" they called frantically.

"Huh?" muttered the hanyou, his ears twitching. Shippou and Kirara exchanged puzzled looks.

A pair of young men ran out, each grabbing Sango and Kagome by their wrists and pulling them into the gate.

Miroku had run after the man with Sango. "Where are you taking her?" he asked coldly, snatching her wrist out of his hand. The man gave them both furious glances.

"Fine, don't be grateful, then. I've saved her from the demons and this is the thanks I get?"

"What do you think you're doing!" shouted a fuming Kagome. The young man holding her wrist gave her a quizzical look. Inuyasha ran after them, scowling.

"Saving you from the demons. Don't worry, Kiyoshi-sama has placed a sacred barrier over our walls. No demon can enter without being purified."

Inuyasha scoffed. "No holy barrier can stop me!" He ran towards the gate only to be thrown backward with a loud bang.

Kagome yanked herself free of her rescuer's grasp. "Inuyasha, are you alright?"

He sat up, wincing, his body still smoking. "Damnit, that hurt!"

The miko whirled on the assembled villagers. "They're harmless! Those 'demons' are friendly!"

A slightly built man in plain monk's robes and clutching a staff came jogging over, sunlight reflecting off his shiny head. Miroku turned to him.

"Good day, souryou-sama. Are you the protector of this village?"

"Yes, yes I am," puffed the man, wiping his face and neck with a small cloth. "I am Kiyoshi."

They exchanged bows.

"I am Miroku and this is Sango. We are humble travelers who have traveled a great distance, hearing of your prowess as a holy man," said Miroku smoothly. Kiyoshi's chest seemed to puff up with every word.

"You are too modest, Miroku-sama." The smug look on the man's face suggested he was not entirely convinced by his own words.

By now, the villagers were becoming bored. One by one, they drifted back to their chores, leaving them with Kiyoshi.

Outside, Kagome had gone out to Inuyasha to both soothe the hanyou's damaged pride and prevent him from kicking up a fuss.

"What's taking that bouzu so long?" griped the dog demon. "We're just here to get that damned jewel shard from that stupid monk!"

"Inuyasha!" chided Kagome.

Inside the walls, Miroku was quite done making small talk. His temper had been rather frayed of late.

"Kiyoshi-sama, I hate to be blunt, but we've heard that you derive your immense spiritual power from a shard of the Shikon jewel. Please give it to us."

"What? No! I purified it myself! Why should I hand it over to strangers?"

Miroku was spared from answering by a dark cloud over the horizon.

"Shit!" yelled Inuyasha. "We're not the only ones after the shard!"

Kohaku had showed up, a sizable horde of minor demons in tow to retrieve it for Naraku.

"Keh!" spat Inuyasha contemptuously, drawing Tetsusaiga. "You're not taking the shard from us, brat!"

Miroku's grip on his shakujou tightened a fraction as he noticed the drawn, tense look on Sango's face, mentally berating the hanyou.

Kohaku leapt off his mount, his kusari-gama ringing as it clashed with Tetsusaiga. The momentum of the boy was enough to knock the hanyou backward a few steps.

"Inuyasha!" Kagome hovered on the edge, not daring to use her arrows for fear of accidentally wounding either combatant. The demon horde, up until that moment remaining passive, swooped down on her.

"Sango! Stay here and protect Kiyoshi-san!" he shouted, running outside to join the attack. Her jaw tightened but she obeyed, adopting a defensive position, Hiraikotsu in hand.

Kohaku remained expressionless, striking at Inuyasha relentlessly.

Kiyoshi appeared calm, taking out a handful of ofuda from his robes. "No need to defend me, my dear," he said pleasantly, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "The barrier is quite sturdy. No demons can enter."

As if to underscore his words, a serpent demon flew at them shrieking wildly. No sooner than when it crossed the walls, it was purified in a burst of dazzling light and vanished as though it had never been.

When the slayer took her attention from the sky, she saw someone running through the gate towards them.

"Maybe, but he's not a demon," Sango whispered, preparing to fight Kohaku.

***************************************************************************************************************

While not overly threatening, the demon horde was certainly annoying. "Damnit!" growled Inuyasha. "They're too many of them but they're all so weak!"

Miroku's violet eyes widened. "The demons – ! They're a distraction!" The next second, he cried out as fangs slashed his right arm.

A feminine cry from within the village gates caught his attention instantly.

"Sango!"

Before Inuyasha could even say anything, the monk knew and had broke into a full-out run. His breath caught in his throat, his treacherous mind conjuring up multiple scenarios…

_Sango… please be safe._

Nothing prepared for the sight that greeted him within the gates.

Kiyoshi was bleeding in several places but was otherwise unaffected by his wounds, his eyes fixed on Kohaku as they circled each other warily.

Sango was kneeling at the side, her hand pressed to her shoulder, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She appeared to be unaware of his arrival, her vision narrowed on her brother.

Miroku's eyes flashed in white fury; Sango had been injured. Normally, whatever it was which had dared to do such a thing would face swift and painful execution. But Kohaku…

_Wait. _

The younger monk blinked sweat and blood out of his eyes in surprise. He could sense something evil around the boy, an aura that had not been there before. The shard in Kohaku's back was beyond merely tainted with Naraku's miasma; a darker presence controlled his mind.

The other monk's face sagged in relief upon seeing Miroku. "Miroku-sama! I'm glad you've come!"

Sango's head jerked up and she forced herself to her feet, using Hiraikotsu as a makeshift crutch.

The monk's battle fury softened, seeing her in such a state. "Don't move, Sango, you might worsen that injury of yours." She made to protest but the words were swallowed as she bit back a grunt of pain.

Kohaku made his move then, hurling his kusari-gama at Kiyoshi. The monk knocked it to the dirt with his staff but the effort took its toll; his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was obviously not used to physical battle, relying entirely on spiritual power.

Miroku quickly leapt into the fray, attempting to stamp on the chain and twist the weapon from the boy's hand. Kohaku anticipated him and withdrew it with a sharp yank, retrieving the kusari-gama easily. The monk cursed as the blade nicked the inside of his calf as it went.

"Kiyoshi-san! Get Sango out of here!" yelled Miroku. The older man hastened to obey, rushing over to help Sango to her feet.

Kohaku's dead eyes flickered; turning his back on the younger monk, he flung his weapon at Kiyoshi. His hands occupied, the man gave a cry of pain as the sickle laid open his right arm. A glittering object fell out of the torn flesh.

With a loud crackling, the spiritual barrier around the village collapsed.

"My shard!" howled Kiyoshi.

Another jerk of the boy's wrist and the kusari-gama flicked up the shard, sending it airborne. Kohaku caught it easily in his free hand and made to run.

Before Miroku could give chase, a weighted chain shot out, wrapping itself around the younger slayer's ankles and bringing him crashing into the ground.

Sango held the other end, her eyes dark with conflicting emotions. She ran forward, heedless of her own injuries and kicked the kusari-gama out of his hand.

Miroku stared at her, only vaguely aware of the arrival of Kagome, Inuyasha, Shippou and Kirara behind him. He was well aware of the internal battle being waged in Sango's heart and cursed his inability to help her in this particular war.

Moving as though in a dream, the slayer drew her wakizashi and leveled the tip of the blade at Kohaku's throat. Kagome gasped softly, Inuyasha's firm hand on her arm the only thing stopping her from running towards the siblings.

Tearful, anguished eyes met cold, lifeless ones. Her brother stared back at her, his emotionless visage mocking hers.

_This is your own brother, Sango… surely you cannot find it in you to end his life?_

_He is not my brother! _She searched his eyes frantically for any spark of warmth and found none. _He is Naraku's reanimated puppet… my brother is dead!_

There was something strange about Kohaku. Before, when she had faced him, a trace of the boy he had used to be remained in his face. This time… Sango could sense the palpable evil coming from him. It frightened her.

The wakizashi dropped closer, grazing delicate flesh and then stopping. A minute trickle of blood marked the spot where it had been. Still the boy remained stone-faced, the opposite of Sango's. Warm tears that were not his own bathed his cheeks.

"Kohaku…" The sword, wielded in trembling hands, hovered tantalizingly close.

Suddenly, she withdrew from him. Kohaku moved fast, untangling the chain from his legs and taking off. A bubble of energy materialized around the younger slayer, lifting him into the air and away.

Sango's eyes followed him as he departed, finally tearing away as it became too small to see.

Kiyoshi broke the spell. "Are you mad, woman? You let the boy get away with my shard!"

He shut up quickly when Miroku laid a warning hand on his uninjured arm. "Kiyoshi-san, I think you should be grateful that you escaped with your life."

"The village barrier – "

"I would be glad to provide you with ofuda to erect it again and to sustain it," said Miroku in a firm yet low tone. "You will have no need for that Shikon shard."

The older monk would have protested, if not for the dangerous violet eyes of the younger man and his blood-stained and tense countenance. Nodding meekly, he tottered off to get himself patched up, mumbling incoherently to no one in particular.

Miroku approached Sango cautiously. "Sango?" She made no reply, sheathing her sword.

Kagome bit her lip nervously: _Miroku-sama, I don't think we're welcome here. Take Sango-chan and let's get out of here. _She muttered something in Inuyasha's ear and he grunted, retrieving Hiraikotsu from where Sango had dropped it.

He inclined her head in understanding and the others left first; the dog demon clearly struggling to hold his tongue. The hanyou had clearly sensed something major had happened and was being tactful enough, although the loss of the Shikon shard was grating on his nerves.

Miroku watched them go before going over to the slayer. "Sango, let's get you cleaned up. Those wounds look bad," he said softly.

She nodded numbly, not responding as he took her hand in his and led her away.

The others had set up camp not far from the village, Kagome already tending to Inuyasha's injuries. Both fell silent upon catching sight of Miroku and Sango.

"Oh, Sango." The younger girl rose, gathering her friend in her arms. Sango's hands rose listlessly to embrace her in return.

The hanyou could not contain himself any longer. "What do ya think ya were doing back there, Sango? Ya could have taken the shard from him!"

"Inuyasha!" Kagome glared fiercely at him. His ears flattened against his head and he turned away with a contemptuous "Keh!"

"Let me see those wounds," coaxed Miroku, pushing her down gently into a sitting position. Sango let him pull down the top of her slayer suit without fuss. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were not serious, merely glancing cuts that had already began to knit.

"I'm going to clean them. It might sting a little."

She nodded and he pressed the cloth to the tender flesh. There was a sharp intake of breath. "Sorry," he muttered and carried on, tracing the lips of the cuts as gently as he could.

Finally, her injuries were cleaned and bandaged. Kagome ordered her friend to change into her regular yukata and while she was gone, Miroku finally allowed the miko to dress his own wounds.

Over a meager dinner that night, Sango picked at her food listlessly, passing as much of it to Shippou and Kirara as she could. Miroku watched her worriedly, barely touching his own meal in his concern for her.

Recognizing there was only so much she could do, Kagome made her decision, standing up as soon as she finished eating and taking Inuyasha by the hand. "I need to find a stream for fresh water," she announced. "Shippou, you come with us too, okay?"

The monk gave her a small smile, silently thanking her. The little kitsune understood and got up without protest. Kirara mewed, brushing up against her mistress before starting off down the path. Once they were out of sight, Miroku shifted closer to Sango.

"Sango, talk to me," he pleaded. "I'm worried about you."

She drew her knees up to her chin, resting it there. For a while, the slayer stared into the flickering flames.

"I hate him."

Her voice was toneless. He winced inwardly at its coldness.

"Who?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I swear I will kill Naraku."

He reached for her hand, squeezing it. "I promise you we will rescue your brother from Naraku –"

She whirled on him, eyes flashing with sudden passion. "That was not my brother!" snarled Sango.

" – We will bring Kohaku back to your side safely," pressed Miroku relentlessly.

"He is not my brother," she repeated slowly. "His eyes… they were so dead and… _empty_. Kohaku's eyes overflowed with warmth and love. Even before… he was still there. Something's changed."

Miroku gave her hand another squeeze. _She noticed it too. That wasn't good, _he thought.

"They will, soon. I promise you."

Sango abruptly dissolved into tears, pressing her face into the front of his robes. The monk wrapped his arm around her waist, his uncursed hand stroking her hair comfortingly.

"I hate him," she managed between sobs. "For doing this to Kohaku."

"Hatred will get you nowhere," he said gently, fingering a strand of her hair. "It's a sterile emotion, hate. Don't lose yourself in it and forget what it's like to feel."

He fell silent, listening to her muffled sobbing. Eventually, she pulled away, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Miroku watched her closely, careful in his handling of this fragile girl.

"Let it all out, don't let your feelings bottle up inside of you."

"I know," she whispered, her face an enigma. Much to the surprise of them both, Sango leaned back in again. Miroku overcame his surprise quickly, linking his fingers around the small of her back, cocooning her in his warmth.

"Houshi-sama?"

"Yes, Sango?"

"About that night…"

The corners of the monk's eyes crinkled slightly. "… Yes?"

"… I'm sorry. Thank you… Miroku."

He managed a dry chuckle, knowing she could not see his face although his eyes told a different story. "There you go again, always apologizing for nothing at all."

Sango chose not to reply, taking comfort in the nearness of his body. Miroku too was relishing the rare occasion she let him hold her like this as he rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling her heartbeat against his.

_It's the little things like this that give me pleasure, Sango, _his own words echoed in his ear.

_This is one of them._

Miroku was glad that he could ease Sango's suffering this time, at least. Her heart was already fragile enough as it was. The contented smile faded from his face. If the next time she was to see Kohaku…

There had to be a way. The conventional path they walked was too long and painful for his precious Sango.

***************************************************************************************************************

By the time Inuyasha, Kagome, Shippou and Kirara drifted back into camp, Sango had fallen asleep in Miroku's arms.

He motioned for them to be quiet with his eyes, not wanting to disturb the sleeping girl. Kagome nodded, starry-eyed for some strange reason, shooing Shippou and Inuyasha off to the other end of the campsite.

The hanyou planted himself cross-legged in front of the dying fire, Tetsusaiga tucked under one arm.

"Inuyasha," whispered Miroku. "Sleep tonight. I'll take the watch."

One ear swiveled around in the monk's direction and the dog demon nodded, knowing better than to argue. He shifted slightly against a nearby tree and shut his eyes.

A tiny sound from the grass caught Miroku's attention. Kirara mewed and hopping up on his knee, her red eyes wondering at her mistress' replacement of her as a sleeping companion. He smirked.

"Sorry, Kirara."

She leapt down and transformed into her larger form behind him, nudging his back as though to encourage him to lean against her.

Sango muttered something in her sleep and snuggled against Miroku, making his heart skip a beat.

He fought the growing blush spreading over his cheeks by occupying his mind with things other than the sleeping girl in his lap.

**Author's Note:** Souryou is a type of Buddhist monk (think Seikai, the monk who tried to free Kikyou's spirit and Hakushin).


	4. Four: Koufuku

**Author's Note: **Fluff overload upcoming. Be warned, I can be very fluffy and cheesy when I want to. (Sometimes even when I don't want to.) Oh, and there's smutty fluff too.

For **psyco_chick32**, whose plot bunnies kick started this story and keep it running smoothly. Also for **nonbender7**, my BB with whom I share an abiding love for Miroku.

* * *

Joy

Inuyasha was already awake when Miroku sat up with a start, bathed in cold sweat.

"Bad dream?" asked the hanyou gruffly. The monk did not answer, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

"How is she?" he finally managed.

"She slept peacefully the whole night," came the answer. The look on the hanyou's face clearly indicated he knew Miroku was avoiding the question. The monk pretended he did not notice.

"Inuyasha… did you notice anything strange yesterday?"

He grunted. "Yeah… around Kohaku. The evil aura surrounding him seems to have gotten much stronger. More evil."

"I know. It worries me."

The dog demon stood up, straightening the sleeves of his kimono. "Much as I hate to say it in front of Sango, but it seems that saving the kid is a lost cause."

"It's not."

Miroku looked outwardly calm, his violet eyes blank. However, his fists were tightly clenched in his lap, the knuckles turning white.

"We will save Kohaku." He cast a look at the sleeping girl.

In sleep Sango looked like the simple peasant girl she appeared to be: her brow was cleared of worries, the skin smooth. Her lips were slightly parted.

_I want to kiss her._

The thought popped into his mind without warning and he reeled. _Where had that come from? I can't do that now. Kami, I want to… but I can't. We can't._

He was aware of gold eyes narrowed intently on him and the monk flushed.

"I promised Sango we would save Kohaku," he explained. "We will, no matter what it takes."

Inuyasha grunted. "You're a damned fool, you know."

Miroku grinned. It was his favorite facial expression; it threw people off from ever finding out his true nature.

"I know."

Sango stirred in her sleep, bringing the conversation to a premature end. Inuyasha walked away, presumably to find Kagome while Miroku stayed where he was.

The slayer opened her eyes, finding herself curled up with Kirara under a familiar purple robe.

"Good morning," Miroku said, violet eyes twinkling. She only nodded, cheeks going tell-tale pink. Kirara mewed and bounded to him, using her claws to scale up his arm and settle on his shoulder. She rubbed her face against his, purring like a motor.

Inuyasha appeared in her field of vision suddenly, rotating his left shoulder. "Huh, about time you woke up." Kagome jabbed him discreetly in the ribs, motioning for him to shut up.

Cowed, the hanyou let her take him by the ear and lead him away. "What was that all about, wench?" he growled the minute Kagome let go.

She placed a finger to her lips and crouched in a convenient clump of bushes. "Not now… I think they need to be alone for a while."

"How the hell do you even know that?"

Kagome sighed. "Never mind, you wouldn't understand anyway… I'll explain it to you someday."

"Forget the explanation!" he grumbled. "We have to get moving, the jewel shards don't gather themselves, you know…"

"Just give them a while. It must have been hard for Sango, yesterday."

She turned her attention to Miroku and Sango.

Miroku came over, Kirara still perched regally beside his ear and knelt beside her. "How are you feeling?" His voice was warm and soothing, flowing over Sango like the warm, lapping waves of the ocean.

"Good," she managed. The nekomata hopped down and rubbed against her, pushing her head into her mistress' hand. "I've had better, though."

He laughed. "Well, then, that's great to hear." The monk held out a hand. "I'm afraid there's not much left for breakfast. Shippou and Inuyasha ate most of it, despite the best efforts of Kagome-sama and myself."

His laughter was infectious and Sango could not help but to smile. "It doesn't matter," she murmured, putting her hand in his. They both got to their feet. Miroku stooped to catch the kesa as it fell from her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Houshi-sama," said the slayer, dusting the fabric off with her hands.

His eyes crinkled as he wrapped it around himself, tying the knot in the front neatly. "No damage done. We should be going, Inuyasha is going to be furious about the late start, no doubt about it."

"You got that right," came a loud voice. Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippou emerged seemingly out of nowhere. The hanyou was wearing his usual surly expression but Sango could have sworn it softened a little when he looked at her.

"How are you feeling, Sango-chan?" asked the younger girl, walking forward and taking her hand, all the while ignoring the hanyou.

"We were really worried about you yesterday," chimed in Shippou, scampering from Kagome's shoulders to Sango's.

Sango smiled warmly, touched by their concern. "Kagome-chan, Shippou-chan… thank you. I'm fine now."

They started off first, Shippou chattering away about something he had seen this morning. Kagome and Sango let the little kitsune talk, glad for the distraction filling the awkward silence that would have been between them otherwise.

Behind them, Miroku and Inuyasha walked, the monk's eyes fixated on Sango's back.

"Inuyasha."

"Hn?" The hanyou glanced over at him. The older man was still focused on Sango, but there was a seriousness to him which Inuyasha did not see often.

"If I don't make it through this… I want you to take care of Sango for me."

There was a pregnant pause before the dog demon reacted characteristically, knocking Miroku over the head.

"Where did that come from, you bouzu!" he growled, after checking to make sure the others had not heard. "Nobody's going to die, not even your useless, perverted self!"

Miroku smiled wryly, rubbing the lump on his skull. "Your optimism is indeed heartening."

"I mean it!"

"I know you do." The monk tugged on his glove, adjusting the straps so it fit more snugly against his skin. "Just in case. Unlike all of you, I'm running on borrowed time, something we are all very much aware of."

"I want to make sure Sango will have a happy life, regardless of whether I will be there to share it with her or not."

The hanyou frowned. "Damnit, shut the hell up, bouzu! You're beginning to piss me off!"

The smile remained on the monk's face but there was no joy in it; it was merely an exercise of his facial muscles arranged in the semblance of one. One man's defense against the world and its emotions.

***************************************************************************************************************

_I was outside Mushin's temple, on the day Father's Kazaana claimed him. I watched as the distraught boy ran towards the howling black-purple winds and was held back by Mushin. _

_My feet were rooted to the ground. I could only look on as my father was consumed._

_The dream changed…_

_The temple was gone. Kohaku stood before me, his face a blank. Evil pulsated around us, choking me. _

'_**Miroku.'**_

"_Who spoke?" I asked, blindly turning, challenging the unseen evil._

'_**I did.'**_

_The young boy spoke with a voice beyond his years; a dreadful voice which had known many atrocities and took pleasure in committing them. How I knew this, I had no idea._

_All I knew was that the voice was a dangerous enemy._

'_**The boy is mine. You seek to take him from me.'**_

"_Kohaku never belonged to you." _

'_**He is mine now. Our souls are one. Such a broken, bleeding spirit, begging to forget. I have claimed him for my own.'**_

"_Give him back."_

'_**I will… if you give me your soul in exchange for his.'**_

"_What?!"_

'_**I have never seen such a soul… you are even more tainted and broken than this boy. Such precious darkness lies within...'**_

_I darted forward and seized Kohaku. "You will never have him!"_

'_**How confident are you of that, Miroku?'**_

_My right hand flared in pain and the Kazaana howled. I pushed Kohaku away. "No… no, not now!" _

_It consumed the glove and prayer beads which had kept it bound. Out of nowhere, Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippou appeared, screaming as they were drawn into the void._

"_No!" I screamed, my voice growing hoarse. Tears poured down my cheeks and were sucked in as well._

_Sango appeared, the winds whipping at her long hair. As I struggled to turn the hand away, she was consumed as well, her cries echoing through my mind._

_I wasn't sure whether I was screaming or not. The dying screams of my friends mingled with my voice, filling my senses. Mocking laughter sounded throughout. _

'_**I will have everything in the end.'**_

_I jolted awake, the mocking laughter still ringing in my ears._

***************************************************************************************************************

_Just a nightmare. _Miroku ran a trembling hand through sweat-drenched bangs.

_A nightmare three nights in a row._

"Hey." Inuyasha looked up. "You alright?"

"Yes, just a bad dream." Miroku smiled weakly. "Nothing more."

"This is the third night in a row you've woke up pale and sweaty," observed the hanyou, a serious look in his gold eyes.

The monk stayed silent, staring at the sleeping Kagome and Sango.

"I hope it isn't an omen or something," remarked the dog demon offhandedly.

"I'm sure it isn't," stated Miroku firmly, folding his arms and settling down comfortably. "Hey, get some sleep. I'll take the watch now."

The hanyou opened his mouth to protest but caught himself, seeing the strange look in the monk's eyes. Dark rings encircled them but they were in no way tired.

_Haunted_. The word popped into the dog demon's mind. With a few mumbled words, Inuyasha dozed off.

Miroku's fingers tightened around his shakujou, drawing comfort from the solid, weathered wood. It was the only thing that had been passed down through the generations of his family, other than the Kazaana.

Right on cue, the Kazaana itched and he tugged at the cloth covering. The hole had widened at an alarming rate over the past few weeks – a fact he had neglected to share with his traveling companions.

_If this continues… I won't live to see another spring. _

Death held no fear for Miroku: the monk had long been resigned to his fate. His religion had taught him life and death were merely a part of the wheel of life. It was the people he was leaving behind which worried him.

It had been his philosophy early in life to be alone. Be a transient figure, drifting in and out of the world, making sure no one would mourn his passing. Earthly pleasures were used to while away his short existence. The only catch: his soul remained empty. It had been that loneliness, the longing to fill that gap in his heart that had convinced him to stay with Inuyasha and Kagome.

Miroku had not been counting on meeting Sango.

She had intrigued him. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, shield her from as much suffering as he could. In return, she kept him bound to life, gave him a reason for living.

There was no way he could leave her now, not when she needed him more than ever. It would be cruel of him to abandon her just like that, leaving her alone again.

***************************************************************************************************************

The next morning, an alarmed Kagome took one look at Miroku's haggard appearance and ordered him to get some rest.

"Kagome-sama, I'm not tired, really," he protested feebly.

The young miko placed her hands on her hips. "I don't care. You look terrible, Miroku-sama! Anyway, I need to go back to get some more supplies, so you take this opportunity to sleep."

Surprising all except Miroku, Inuyasha raised no protest at this further delay in their quest.

They set off for Kaede's village that very day, arriving a few days later. While Kagome and Inuyasha disappeared down the well, Shippou entertained himself in Kaede's hut. Kirara watched over the little kitsune.

Miroku slipped out of bed as soon as Kagome had marched out of the hut and wandered around aimlessly. Somehow, his feet eventually took him down to the river.

For some reason, water always calmed him. He had grown up to the sound of running water from the waterfall beside Mushin's temple. As a boy, he always stole away there just to sit and watch.

The river failed to calm him today. The Kazaana pulsed, worrying him greatly. Crossing his legs, Miroku tried to empty his mind and meditate.

Now that death was staring him squarely in the face, he was finding it harder to quell the feelings of regret welling in his mind.

His master had taught him that having attachments to the mundane world prevented the soul from finding nirvana. Somehow, he did not mind being a tortured ghost lingering on earth if it meant he would be by Sango's side.

"Houshi-sama?"

Miroku froze. She had found him.

He half-turned, smiling at her. The slayer stood, her hands crossed in front of her, a nervous look on her face.

"Sango."

She walked over and sat beside him. "Kagome-chan said you should be resting," she said reproachfully, "you look tired."

Miroku shook his head, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. "Kagome-sama worries too much. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me."

The monk exhaled. Forcing a grin, he met Sango's concerned eyes head on.

"What about you?"

"Don't evade the question," said Sango firmly.

"I'm not. I'm just asking you whether you're fine."

"I'm perfectly alright, Houshi-sama. You should be more concerned about your own health, you know."

He heaved a mildly aggravated sigh, a ghost of a smile etched on his lips. "Sango, you have a one-track mind."

She stayed silent, not rising to the bait. The monk raised an eyebrow. It was simply not normal for his Sango to not have a ready answer for everything.

Miroku pushed himself to his feet. Violet eyes flitted around as he walked in circles, seemingly searching for something.

"Houshi-sama?" she asked. "Did you lose something?"

"Yes." A perplexed frown darkened his features. "I could have sworn I saw it earlier…"

She got up and helped him search. "What is it?"

Miroku pretended not to hear as he walked out of the clearing, muttering to himself.

"Houshi-sama?" she called, running after him. "Where are you going?"

His robes were barely in sight as he strode purposefully through the trees, sunlight filtering in past the leaves throwing odd shadows over the fabric. Then he disappeared.

"Houshi-sama!"

Without warning, she burst out of the forest to see him standing on the crest of a hill ahead. Sango quickened her pace and drew to an abrupt halt by his side.

There was a patch of wildflowers before them in the valley below, the heads gently waving in the wind. Though small, the riot of colors attracted attention – blue, purple, pink, all vying to catch her eye. There was even a clump of her favorite white lilies in the corner of the patch.

"They're beautiful," she breathed, taking a few steps forward in a daze.

"I discovered them when I went for a walk earlier," explained Miroku. "I thought you would like to see them."

Sango knelt among the flowers, picking a single white lily and inhaling its subtle fragrance. "Thank you, Houshi-sama."

A genuine smile spread over her face, hesitantly at first, then rapidly. Hearty laughter bubbled from the young woman's throat as she spread her arms, letting the wind blow through her hair.

"I finally found it," murmured a soft voice. Sango blushed; somehow Miroku had gotten much too close for comfort. A gloved hand plucked the lily from her hand and tucked it behind her ear.

"Found what?"

He placed his hands on her waist, coaxing her to turn and face him. "Your smile," he said, cupping her cheek with his palm, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. "I haven't seen it for quite a while, I was beginning to worry."

She flushed deeper crimson; a feat she would not have not thought possible. The proximity of their faces was unsettling her, both in a good and bad way. Part of her wanted to pull away from him; part of her wanted to take him in her arms and never let go.

Miroku decided for her; he stepped backward, leaving her feeling cold from his absence. He wore a pensive, guarded look she had seen only a few times before.

"It will be dark soon, we should be getting back now," he suggested.

Sango was surprised to find herself feeling disappointed that nothing had happened. Miroku had behaved himself, his hands not roaming anywhere they should not.

"Yes," she said, forcing a smile. "Kaede-sama will be wondering where we are."

She turned her back on him and prepared to leave; had Sango hesitated for a second, she would have seen his mask crumble, the unmistakable look of longing in intense violet eyes that followed her movement.

A profound sense of regret nagged at her, preventing her from taking another step forward.

"Sango?"

Miroku was by her side, his true feelings hidden under a veneer of platonic concern as he gazed at her. Sango lowered her head, debating with herself what she should do next.

The choice between her heart and her head was not an easy one.

The monk made an 'oof' sound as she threw her arms around him in a rib-crushing hug. Before his brain could interrupt with a coherent thought – _Sango made the first move, Sango is hugging me_ – his arms automatically came up and encircled her; one around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the other pressing on the small of her back.

"Sango…" He felt as though his mind was shutting down – all he could do was say her name, relishing every syllable as it rolled off his tongue.

"Thank you, Houshi-sama, for everything," came her voice, muffled from her face being buried in his shoulder. "I never properly thanked you for being by my side all this while. Ever since the first day I met you, until now, today. Up 'til this moment."

He rested the side of his face against her hair, breathing in her scent: jasmine and fresh grass permeated with faint hints of lilies from the flower behind her ear.

"I know,' he whispered. "I've always known. You didn't need to say it; it showed in everything you did." It felt liberating to be able to speak the contents of his heart out loud.

A faint sob; Sango was crying again. He leaned back and ran his thumb over her cheeks, wiping the tears away almost as quickly as they fell from her eyes. She froze.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, roughly dabbing at them with her sleeve as he withdrew his hand. "I'm always crying – "

"… Sango." Miroku was staring at her as though seeing her for the first time. She felt naked under his scrutiny.

"H – houshi-sama?"

"You talk too much." With those words, he bent forward and closed the gap between them, covering her lips with his.

Sango gasped against his mouth but quickly relaxed, kissing him back with an equally ardent fire. Miroku's hand cupped her face, holding her to him as his tongue teased hers. She learned fast, both her hands moving from his chest to fist themselves in his hair as she arched her back against him.

A sharp intake of breath from her as he shifted his mouth to her jaw, his tongue caressing her heated skin. Sango panted; they were moving too fast, her heart racing wildly in her chest as it struggled to catch up with them.

"Sango…" She was aware of her name issuing from his lips, a breathy moan, like a prayer of love. It was only fair she reciprocated.

"… Miroku."

The word slipped out easily, as though she had never called him by any other name. He made a sound that could have been delight as his teeth nibbled at her neck.

Growing impatient, she took his face in both hands and pressed her lips to his once more. Her knees went weak as pleasure suffused her limbs and she collapsed to the ground, taking him down with her. Sango looped her arms around his neck for support.

Miroku, his eyes clouded with passion and desire, tugged at the neck of her kimono as she fumbled with the knot of his kesa. They were hardly aware of anything else except each other.

He spread his robes out over the grass, creating a makeshift bed for them both. Sango barely noticed her clothes strewn around them, intermingled with his.

All she saw was him as he brought his mouth crashing down on hers, the bruising force of the kiss awakening wanton feelings in her gut.

She had wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

The white lily in her hair fluttered down as Miroku ran his fingers through Sango's hair, its absence going unnoticed.

Her hand found his, the fingers intertwining, palms slick with sweat pressed together.

"_Don't let go."_

"_I won't."_

"_Stay with me."_

"_I will."_

"_For now."_


	5. Five: Kanashimi

**Author's Note:** Hints of manga chapter 522 in this chapter.

* * *

Sorrow

Miroku awoke first, his eyes snapping open suddenly.

It was dawn; weak rays of light were only beginning to poke over the hills. Sango shifted, nestling her head into the crook of his neck.

His arms tightened around her. More than anything, he wanted to stop time and preserve this moment for eternity.

The sky brightened gradually. They had to go back soon.

Miroku leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on Sango's forehead. "Sango, love."

She opened bleary eyes, smiling faintly.

He sat up, sorting out her clothes from his, folding her garments into a neat pile and depositing it beside her.

"We have to go back," he said softly. "They'll be wondering where we are."

Sango nodded, rising and dressing herself. He waited until she was decent before he pulled his kesa from the soil and tied it around himself.

When he was done, he went over to where she stood, staring off into the distant horizon.

"What's on your mind?" Miroku asked. Sango bit her lip.

"Hou – Miroku… What are we now? Where does this leave us?"

He was grateful for the use of his name; the monk's hand slipped into hers, squeezing it. She lowered her head, suddenly embarrassed by the memory of the previous night. "Should we even have done what we did?"

Miroku took hold of her chin, tilting her face upwards. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she mouthed. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

"Me neither."

He pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss, pulling away a few moments later.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand, they made their way back to the village.

* * *

Miroku had been feeling restless for the past three days, sensing the unrest of the demons. Their auras spiked and fell constantly with fear and nervousness.

Inuyasha was more subdued than he was, his keen demonic senses no doubt picking up more than the monk could with his spiritual powers. Kagome and Sango, their senses not as honed as the men, were less affected, although they were uncharacteristically snappish and tense.

All of them could sense one thing: a great demonic horde was on the move, heading in their direction.

She let him hold her at night now: but only when they were shrouded in the darkness of the forest, away from the others. Miroku clung to her like a drowning man during those times, seeking to calm the uneasiness of his heart. A dark premonition, the memory of that frightening dream haunted him.

They arrived the next afternoon. Inuyasha was walking ahead as usual when he stopped short, his nostrils flaring.

"They're here," he stated simply.

The group barely had time to get into their battle positions when the sky overhead darkened, the air filled with the maniacal howling of countless demons.

Kohaku rode at their head on the back of a serpentine demon, leaping to the ground effortlessly.

"Kohaku," murmured Sango.

Instinctively, Miroku shifted fractionally in front of her.

The boy stood there, his sickle held loosely in one hand, ready to strike.

Naraku appeared abruptly, stepping from the horde of demons.

"Well, well. Here we are again," he smirked. "I do tire of seeing you lot always getting in my way."

Inuyasha snarled, brandishing Tetsusaiga in his direction.

"Keh! Then we'll finish you off today!"

Without fanfare, he launched a Wind Scar at the demon's direction. It bounced harmlessly of Naraku's barrier, eradicating a stretch of the horde.

"Kohaku," called Naraku, levitating safely above the battle. "Kill them."

He tensed and sprang forward, hurling his kusari-gama at the group. They split and the blade traveled in a wide arc.

"Kohaku, fight him!" shouted Sango, throwing Hiraikotsu at the advancing rabble.

"Have you learned nothing, Sango, after all this time?" mocked Naraku. "Your voice cannot reach him, not while I hold his life in my hand."

Miroku fought valiantly, a short distance from the siblings, his Kazaana making short work of the minor demons. His weapon was nullified a short time later as saimyoshou streamed out of nowhere, hovering ominously overhead.

"Damn," he cursed, sealing his hand safely.

The demon horde was quickly dispatched, thanks to copious use of Inuyasha's Wind Scar. At last, all that remained was Naraku and Kohaku.

Kagome, Inuyasha and Shippou directed their energies at Naraku, sending attack after attack at him as he morphed into his tentacled form.

That left Sango and Kohaku facing off, Kirara following them both worriedly with her eyes.

Thrust. Parry. Lunge. Block. The boy fought like a tiger, aggressively attacking his sister, who deflected each move. She dreaded the instant she would have to properly retaliate.

Miroku reached out and patted her head, mostly to soothe the nekomata, partly because he was beginning to feel the fatigue.

"Go help Kagome and the others, Kirara," he muttered, his vision fixed on Sango's face. "I'll save Sango and Kohaku."

She made a low rumble in her throat and nuzzled his hand before flying off. Miroku made sure she was gone and the others were occupied before he laid down his shakujou.

He would not be needing it for this.

The monk circled the pair carefully, checking for an opening. He found it when the boy lunged at his sister, kusari-gama raised.

Miroku dived, catching Kohaku around the middle with one arm and taking his right wrist with the other. They crashed to the ground with a thud.

Sango was rooted to the ground in shock, her Hiraikotsu upraised.

"Houshi-sama…!"

He ignored her, disarming Kohaku and flipping him onto his front and scanning his back.

_There…_

The faint pulsating of the completely black Shikon shard under his fingers alerted him to its position. Miroku flattened his palm over it and concentrated.

'_**We meet again, monk.'**_

"_You will not have him."_

Black tendrils leaked out from Kohaku's back and into Miroku's hand. He gasped as pain shot through the digits before they went numb, withdrawing his hand.

"Give up, monk," called Naraku. "Kohaku's shard is directly linked to me through my miasma. My will is his."

_So that was the being I sensed! _He stared, horrorstruck, at the pulse of corruption. _A personification of Naraku's evil…_

"The only way to purify it is to take it into your own body. Which will also result in your death, I'm afraid."

'_**Like I said, I will have everything in the end.'**_

The monk moved his fingers experimentally. Poisoned, the digits responded sluggishly to his brain. The two voices rang out in Miroku's ears, drowning out all other sound. Kohaku's body spasmed under Miroku, weakened by the presence sapping his energy. It was clear he did not have much longer before his body gave out.

"Houshi-sama, no!" The slayer ran forward but was pushed back by a tentacle.

"Leave them be, Sango," hissed the demon. "I'm quite interested to see how this turns out." She gritted her teeth as more tentacles came out of nowhere, enmeshing her in their web.

The monk set his jaw and replaced his palm, feeling the aching numbness spread up his arm into his shoulder. The skin on his fingers began to blacken and blister. _I'm going to die, _he thought. Strangely, the thought did not seem to bother him greatly. He followed the tracks of black corruption in a detached fashion as it leeched into his body.

"Heh," muttered Miroku through blood-blackened teeth. "You were saying?"

"Houshi-sama!" Sango was crying freely, fighting like a madwoman to get to them both.

Miroku's lips continued to move as he chanted the sutras, his spiritual power driving the taint from the jewel shard. The poison was taking its toll on him; his lips were turning ashy grey, the skin of his hand dark and brittle.

When the last of the darkness left the shard, it glowed bright pink, the power blasting Miroku off Kohaku's prone body. He fell heavily, a jet of black blood spilling from his mouth.

Wild with grief and rage, Inuyasha sent another surge of power at the distracted Naraku. His tentacles fell limp and Sango broke through at last.

"Houshi-sama!"

She ran, her blood pounding a tattoo in her ears. He lay on the ground, his body shuddering as it vainly tried to expel the poison, blood flowing in warm gushes from his mouth. The sounds of battle raging around her seemed to fade away into the distance.

"No."

She fell on her knees beside him, her fingers cupping his chin, stroking his face, touching his hair.

"Sango… "

His hands clasped hers, slick with his blood. She forced herself to look at him.

Miroku's eyes were still bright, though a dull glaze was beginning to creep in. "Listen… to me." He coughed wetly, more blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Sango threw herself down, her head resting against his shoulder. "You idiot," she sobbed, bringing his hand to her cheek, wiping his face, pretending it was warm against hers. "W – Why did you – "

"I w – wanted you to smile." The pressure on her hand was weakening. Sango squeezed his hand harder, willing him to fight.

"Stupid monk! How is this going to make me smile?!"

Miroku chuckled weakly, the action bringing up a bubble of blood. "K – Kohaku is back… you have avenged your village…"

He sighed, his thumb making circles over the back of her hand. The pain was growing distant. It would not be long.

"Promise me."

She blinked away the tears from her blurred vision. "W – what?"

Miroku squeezed her hand. "Promise me… you'll be happy without me."

"I can't do that!"

He did not respond. Heartsick, she fumbled for his wrist. The thin thread of his life still pulsed weakly and Sango breathed a sigh of relief.

Kagome hovered over the pair, her clothes bloody and torn. "Sango-chan…"

"He's alive, just unconscious," answered the older girl, her voice emotionless. A hand descended on her shoulder, squeezing the tense muscles.

"We need to get them somewhere safe."

"Them?"

The miko moved to face her, her grey eyes sad. "Kohaku-kun's alive. He's quite beaten up, but he's fine otherwise."

The slayer nodded. A moment passed and she finally became aware of the silence engulfing them.

"Naraku…"

"Dead. Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru killed him. Funny how he appeared to help at the last moment and vanished immediately after Naraku died."

"Dead…" She looked to the sky as though looking for answers from the heavens. The darkness and corruption she had been sensing all this while, that had become a part of her was gone, leaving in its place a void. Sango should have been happy, now that her quest had come to an end, leaving her free to determine her own life.

A life that, it seemed, had ended before it had even begun.

Miroku's chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Sango shook herself out of her trance and stood up, taking her first glimpse of a world without Naraku.

A bloodied, unsteady Inuyasha approached them, a dullness in his usually keen golden eyes the slayer had never seen before. Her Hiraikotsu was slung over one shoulder. Kirara padded after him in her large form, Shippou on her back, both also bearing signs of fierce battle.

"Let's get out of here," said the hanyou softly. Wordlessly, the group shifted the prone forms of Miroku and Kohaku, leaving the field of battle behind for good.

* * *

Sango knelt between Miroku's and Kohaku's bedsides, where she had been keeping vigil for three nights on end. Both had yet to wake up from their comas; however, while Kohaku's breathing and colour had been improving, Miroku's was deteriorating.

"Houshi-sama – _Miroku_ – I know you can hear me," she whispered, her breath tickling his bangs. "Keep fighting. I know you'll make it through this like always. If not for yourself, for me. For us."

Her hand found his and squeezed: it was cold, the flesh clammy. It felt as though she was gripping a handful of snow.

A worn-looking Kagome, fraught with worry for her friends entered the room, a basin of fresh water cradled in her arms. Sango straightened up, looking up at her friend.

"Sango-chan, you take care of Miroku-sama while I tend to Kohaku-kun," said the younger girl gently. "After that, get some rest. I'll stay here with them."

"No. I'm fine." Sango answered curtly, not taking her eyes off Miroku's pale face. "Come back to me... _Miroku_."

Behind her, Kagome let a silent tear fall to the floor.

* * *

The best way to describe his surroundings, Miroku decided, was to liken it to a pool of water. Sometimes, he would float on the surface and he would hear her voice, speaking to him, telling him not to give up. He would then try to reach her, wherever she was, but found he could not lift his leaden limbs out of the water. He could not even open his eyes to see her face.

Sometimes, though, he sank further into the depths, icy hands pulling him down to the bottom. Those times were the worst; he could not even feel his own body. There was only darkness, and a vague nothingness which he fervently hoped was not death.

If Miroku was going to die, he was determined he would not die alone.

He was aware that time was passing around him while he stood still. A different voice would talk to him on occasion when he surfaced, Kagome, Shippou and once even Inuyasha. Warmth and cold tickled the limbs which had not been deadened by the poison. But it was always Sango there with him, his lifeline tying him to the world.

What worried him was the presence of the dark entity he felt at the back of his mind. It was weak from being imprisoned in the body of a holy man, but there nonetheless.

They talked only once, a disjointed and surreal conversation.

'_**You still breathe, Miroku?'**_

"_As do you."_

'_**Why cling on to this half-life of yours?'**_

"_A half-life is better than no life."_

'_**Cut your tie to this world; there is no way you can be with her. You are dead. I am dead. We belong to hell now.'**_

_Miroku laughed._

'_**You mock me?'**_

"_No. I find our situation amusing. You were right: in the end, you took my life. And yet you lost."_

'_**Indeed. You humans are a strange lot. I would have thought you one who would choose life over death.' **_

"_In life, there is no future. There is only what is past, and the present in which we live and the consequences of the present." _

'_**How wise. For all your wisdom, monk, you know this cannot continue. It will end, as it must, in your death.'**_

"_Was there any doubt?"_

It fell silent, and Miroku knew he had won. A hollow victory – but the only kind of battle he could fight now.

* * *

The monk had no idea how much time had passed while he floated in the darkness. Something was different: he felt the water pulsating and trembling, as though barely able to control itself from bursting free.

The water lost its grip on him, and Miroku was free.

He opened his eyes. Sunlight bathed the hut, warming his body: he had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Sango was fast asleep at his side.

"Sango," he croaked. His voice was rusty and hoarse from disuse; how long had he drifted in the dark waters?

She awoke instantly. "Miroku." Her brown eyes were bloodshot, dark circles ringing them.

"Miroku," she said again, clutching his hand tighter, tears spilling from her eyes.

He said nothing, reveling in her warmth and the sensation of her body against his. He had missed this; the monk's weak fingers twitching as he struggled to maneuver the digits and return her affection.

Something in his soul called out to him, ruining the moment of reunion. Miroku understood the summons but rebelled against it.

It seemed like there was no way for him to win, after all. _Ah well. At least I got to see her one last time. _

"Sango." The tone of his voice made her pause, and she broke away from him, a questioning look in her eyes.

He drew her fingers to his lips slowly, almost reverently, and kissed them. Tears leaked from his eyes.

She understood without him needing to say anything. "No," she breathed.

"I'm sorry."

"_No_. You can't go."

He let go. Shaky fingers dug into the folds of his robe and drew out a familiar piece of paper, one corner stained black, crusted with old blood. She took it from him and slowly opened it. Familiar black kanji stood out vividly against the paper.

"Sango…"

She looked at him, dumbfounded.

"You kept it."

"Of course," he murmured. The slayer's tears dampened the parchment and she crumpled it.

Sango sat up, her face and body speckled with his blood, taking his hand and holding it firmly to her chest. "You can't leave me," she choked out, "not now. Not like this. _Miroku_, please."

"Believe me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't go like this either," Miroku said quietly, a wistful smile on his face. "But it isn't up to me."

"In fact… I'm glad I can leave with you by my side rather than alone in the Kazaana."

Sango's body shook with a convulsed sob, and she leaned over him. There was so much she wanted to say to him but the words jumbled painfully in her throat and no sound escaped her lips.

_I'm sorry, Houshi-sama._

_Miroku. If you make it through this, I promise I'll call you by your name for the rest of our lives. I never liked calling you Houshi-sama, it sounded so formal._

_Please don't leave me. I need you._

_I wish it could have ended differently._

_I wouldn't mind not knowing you in this life if it meant you would live._

_I love you, Miroku._

A faint smile was etched on his face and Miroku squeezed her hand. Even without words he heard and understood everything.

She bent down and kissed him, slowly and sadly, feeling his lips rapidly turning cold beneath hers. Miroku's hand against her face began stroking her cheek, his other hand coming up to cup her face. Soon, he dropped his hands to her waist.

When she broke the kiss at last, she sat back, watching him. It was heartbreaking to see the light mostly gone from his vibrant eyes, now glassy with death.

A peaceful smile was fixed on his pale face. "Miroku?"

He did not respond. This time, she knew it was final.

Sango hunched over, trying to keep her soul from shattering into a thousand shards of glass. She was barely aware of Kagome's muted sobs, Shippou's desperate wails, Inuyasha's cursing.

Through her tears, she glimpsed a white blur. The paper. The slayer's hand reached out, taking it and smoothing out the crumpled paper.

"Sango…?"

She folded it back into a neat square and tucked it back into his robes.

A firm hand on her shoulder. "Sango," came Inuyasha's gruff voice, "Kohaku's awake."

She staggered to her feet, the hand gripping her elbow to steady her and made her way to his bedside.

The boy struggled to sit up, his eyes filled with tears. The vacant look in them made him appear to be looking right into her soul. "Ane-ue… I remember everything," he choked out.

Sango knelt beside him. The softness she remembered had returned to her little brother's eyes, filling them completely.

He was free.

Wordlessly, she opened her arms to him and he fell into them gratefully, giving way to frightened sobs. Strangely numb to his grief, she stared fixedly ahead into the middle distance.

"Kohaku-kun."

Kagome was there all of a sudden, filling her vision. She laid gentle hands on the boy's shoulders, prompting him to pull away from his sister.

"Sleep now. You must be exhausted." Every now and then, she rubbed at swollen red eyes with her sleeve.

"But Ane-ue – "

Sango pretended not to notice as Kagome leaned in, whispering a few words into her brother's ear. After so long, so much blood and pain and suffering, Kohaku was free again. She knew she should be elated to have the last surviving member of her family back at her side again.

But at great cost.

The slayer had hoped Miroku would be with her, as he had always been through her trials. It seemed she had exchanged one good thing for another. Her smiling, lecherous monk was dead. He had given up his life to redeem her brother's.

It was enough to break an ordinary woman.

Just how much heartbreak could she withstand before the kamis decided she deserved a little happiness?

* * *

They had buried him nearby, in a meadow similar to the one his grandfather rested. Inuyasha insisted on doing it alone with his own two hands, raking and clawing at the dirt in silence.

With Miroku's death, his family was extinct. The Kazaana, its terrible job of wiping out his bloodline done, vanished without a trace. Sango had found out when she removed his glove and ring, half-hoping the void would swallow her and her sorrow into its blackness.

Kagome had yet to say a word to her, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Kirara never left her side, sharing in her mistress' grief, her astute demon senses well aware of the deep bond they had shared that went beyond words.

When Miroku died, he took more than just a legacy and shattered dreams. He took Sango's heart with him. With him was buried a relationship built on understanding and trust.

His shakujou was buried with him, along with that piece of paper. She held on to his other belongings, guarding them fiercely from Inuyasha.

Kohaku stood awkwardly by. He had yet to speak to her since the day he was freed, when he cried in her arms. She understood his reticence in letting her grieve alone, but at the same time keeping watch over her to let her know he was there for her when she wanted him. So like a certain monk she used to know.

They let her sit by his grave, now that their quest was over. Naraku was dead, the shards of the Shikon jewel he carried recovered, making the jewel whole. Their journey was at an end.

They stayed in Kaede's village for a time, the drifters having no other place to go. Sango hovered around them like an insubstantial wraith eating little and sleeping less.

One night, she went away into the deep forest by herself to rage at the kamis for taking him away. Sango had sobbed, shouted, wept and railed at the heavens. She went unarmed, knowing that Inuyasha would be watching her, offering her his silent support in the only way he knew how.

For hours she gave vent to her feelings, finally falling to her knees in exhaustion as dawn came. The hanyou was at her side instantly, his golden eyes serious as he offered her his hand.

"Why, Inuyasha?" she asked him, fresh tears filling her eyes. "Why did he have to go this way?"

He shook his head slowly. "The idiot."

She scrubbed away at her swollen face. "Why did he have to do this!"

"Come on, Sango," Inuyasha said quietly, "Kagome's worried about you. You haven't eaten, you haven't slept…"

She refused to move. In the end, he had to physically carry her back to Kaede's hut. Kagome was waiting anxiously outside. She flew to their side the instant she saw them coming.

"Sango-chan! I was so worried!"

The dog demon wordlessly dumped her on the futon. Kagome knelt, fussing over the listless slayer.

"Sango-chan, you haven't eaten or slept properly in days… Miroku-sama wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."

Sango stared up at the ceiling, her eyes blank and devoid of emotion. Kohaku hovered nearby, hands folded in front of him, the same nervous habit as his sister's.

"You can't go on like this," said Kagome urgently. "Kohaku needs you, we need you to be strong. Please, Sango-chan, for our sakes."

She ignored them, the voices around her gradually being drowned out by the noise in her mind.

_I needed you but you left me._

_What happened to your promises?_

_You liar._

_I hate you._

_I love you._

Tears rolled down the sides of her face and she placed a hand over her stomach.

_You didn't even have the decency to leave me something to remember you by._

* * *

It took Sango a week to be able to leave the hut, and another month before she laughed. Kohaku and her friends rallied around her, helping to heal the gash in her heart.

It did heal eventually; but it left a scar.


	6. Six: Ai

Love

– One year later –

* * *

They made an odd pair; the girl dressed like a miko and the man who was clearly hanyou, with long silver hair and dog ears. The sentry at the gate easily recognized them from far away and opened it for them.

"Inuyasha-sama and Kagome-sama have returned!" he called. People stopped their daily business and flocked to the gate to greet the couple.

Inuyasha looked around the crowd of welcoming faces clustering around them, searching for one particular person. Familiar faces were mixed with new ones: it seemed more people moved into the village every month in between their visits.

A tall man made his way through the sea of children. "Inuyasha, Kagome-sama!" he said warmly. "Welcome back! A month goes by so fast."

It took a while before the hanyou remembered his name: he was Hiroki, the deputy headman of the village, Sango's second-in-charge. "Hiroki. Where's Sango?" asked the hanyou.

"I do not know," he admitted. "I was on a mission; Sango-sama left before I came back. Perhaps you could ask Kohaku-kun; he is at home."

Kagome smiled. "Thank you, Hiroki-san." Carefully disengaging themselves from the overexcited children, the pair made their way to the largest hut in the center of the village. They passed many things; men and women in form-fitting slayer armour, chatting as they shouldered oversized weapons, shrieking youngsters staging mock battles with 'youkai', a bustling forge where sweating men worked on new weaponry.

The miko smiled, taking in the sights. "The village has sprung back to life," she noted happily. Inuyasha nodded. Both were momentarily silent, remembering the horrific ruins that had greeted them the first time their party visited the village.

They found Kohaku on the veranda of the headman's hut, engrossed with sharpening his kusari-gama. He did not look up as Inuyasha and Kagome approached.

"Kohaku-kun!" called Kagome excitedly.

He put down his weapon, a smile spreading across his face. "Inuyasha-sama, Kagome-sama."

"Keh, how many times do I have to tell you?" muttered Inuyasha. "Just Inuyasha will do, none of that -sama shit."

The boy said nothing, the polite smile widening as Kagome sighed in the background. Her husband was still as surly as he had been in the old days; married life had done nothing to mellow him.

"Where's Sango-chan, Kohaku-kun?" asked the miko.

"Ane-ue's just gone to visit Houshi-sama," the young slayer answered quietly, looking back down at his kusari-gama.

"This late in the day? And we thought we were late," interjected the dog demon. "Which we wouldn't have been if Kagome hadn't forgot where she put the plass-tick bag for the damn flowers."

She ignored him. "Where's my goddaughter?" Kagome asked.

A genuine smile lit up Kohaku's face. "She's in the bedroom, waiting for her Aunt Kagome." The miko stepped into the house.

Inuyasha folded his arms and sat down on the veranda with the boy. From the corner of the structure he could catch a glimpse of the old graves; they were festooned with flowers. Kagome had wanted to build a shrine there, a proposition Sango had gladly approved of.

"She didn't bring Megumi with her?" called the miko from inside, returning shortly with a baby girl in her arms.

"No." The detached look that Kohaku wore when he was under Naraku's control appeared on his face. "Megumi was sleeping, Ane-ue didn't want to wake her."

"But I was about to go." Kohaku pointed at a bunch of fresh flowers on the veranda beside him. "I was thinking of bringing her with me."

Kagome nodded slowly. "You should. I think Miroku-sama would like to see his daughter."

An awkward silence fell over them after the mention of his name. Kagome quietly fussed over the gurgling baby, her head bent as Inuyasha folded his arms.

The young boy stood. "I must be going," he almost whispered, taking his niece from the miko's arms. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Yeah," answered Inuyasha, seeing how dangerously close his wife was to tears. "Go on then, Kagome will cook some food. We'll see you and Sango back here later."

Kohaku shifted the baby into a more comfortable position, balancing her on his hip and took the flowers in his free hand. With a wave, he set out.

The miko watched him go wistfully. "He'll make a good father someday," she remarked, discreetly wiping her eyes. "Look how gentle he is with Megumi-chan."

Inuyasha pretended not to notice the salty scent of tears adrift in the air, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders in silent comfort. "Yeah."

* * *

Sango found herself walking the familiar path to the isolated valley where they had laid him to rest. On one of the long nights they had shared, he had described his ideal resting place.

* * *

_Sango made a noise of protest at the chilly night air and pressed closer to him._

_Miroku laughed softly. "Cold?" he asked, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. She nodded into his chest, feeling his heart beat against her cheek._

"_Sango?" _

"_Mmm?"_

"_When I die – "_

_She sat upright, angry eyes boring into his veiled ones. "Don't say it. You're not going to die."_

"_Just in case I don't… make it." Miroku avoided her gaze, absently running his fingers through her bangs. She felt the cold hard beads brushing on her skin and reluctantly relaxed._

_They had little time for arguments._

"_I want to be buried in a grassy field in the middle of nowhere," he said dreamily. "A place of natural beauty…"_

"_Like your grandfather's grave?"_

_Miroku smiled and cupped her face in his cursed hand. "Yes, like that."_

_Tilting his head down, he appraised her silently. "Why so sad?" he teased. "Alright, I want to be buried near to the demon slayers' village. So I can keep an eye on you."_

_She snorted despite herself. "More like keep an eye on my ass." _

"_Why not both at the same time?" he said mischievously, drawing her down to the grass and kissing her tenderly. Sango responded eagerly, all other coherent thoughts leaving her mind…_

* * *

Miroku's grave was nestled in between two gentle hills, a majestic mountain standing guard over it. A broad meadow stretched out in front. So similar to his grandfather's grave.

The sun was descending in the sky when she reached it. She smiled when she saw the large bunch of flowers already at the foot of the stone marker. Inuyasha and Kagome obviously had not forgotten, and visited earlier. The white lilies were still fresh-looking and crisp, wrapped in that strange material from Kagome's time – plass-tick, she believed it was called.

Sango knelt down and gazed at the mound, a chill stealing over her heart. It still ached when she thought of him as _gone_, half-expecting to find him waiting for her when she returned to the demon slayers' village with that ever-present boyish grin in place.

She had come empty-handed. Sango never brought any flowers for him, preferring just to visit and be alone with her memories instead.

"Ane-ue?"

Sango took her time in coming back to the present, amidst all her broken memories. She forced a smile as she turned to greet him, reassure the newcomer nothing was amiss.

"Kohaku. You brought Megumi too."

Her younger brother stood awkwardly by, a bunch of flowers clutched in one hand. The other arm cradled her baby daughter, asleep in the crook of his elbow. He was going through a growth spurt, his kimono becoming too short for him.

She mentally reminded herself to lengthen it for him soon.

"I brought flowers for Houshi-sama," he explained, holding out the straggly bouquet.

"They're lovely. Why don't you give them to him yourself?"

Sango stood up, reaching out to take the infant from his arms and stepping to the side to allow him access to the marker. She watched him as he laid the flowers at the head of the grave, then bowed his head and clasped his hands in silent prayer. It seemed that his naturally timid and quiet nature had been worsened by his time under Naraku's control.

Kohaku's lips moved, forming words as he spoke to his almost-brother-in-law. His sister merely stared dispassionately.

Eventually, the boy fell silent, hands falling to his knees as he knelt.

"You loved him."

The words were spoken so quietly, Sango almost missed them.

"…"

Her brother looked up at her then, his eyes filled with pain and suffering. She felt sorry for him then; he was far too young to be this intimate with death.

"He made you happy, Ane-ue."

"Yes, Kohaku." She spoke baldly; that had been the truth, after all. It was the first time her brother had breached the subject and she did not shy away from it.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled abruptly, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed grief. Without knowing it, Sango had crouched down to his level, steadying him with a protective arm. "Forgive me."

"What for?"

"For taking away your happiness. It should have been me who died, not Houshi-sama." Shame flooded his voice.

Sango shook her head slowly, the loose ponytail her hair was pulled into gradually coming undone.

"Kohaku, it has been so long since Houshi-sama left us. There is nothing to forgive, nothing to be sorry for," she gently told her brother, taking his hand. "Houshi-sama gave his life willingly for yours. He went without regrets."

Even now, it still hurt whenever she thought of him being dead. The tears threatened to come but with less force than in the past. Sango knew she had to get accustomed to the idea of not having him around anymore, spending the rest of her life not hearing his voice or even feeling that damned hand on her ass. She seemed to feel his physical presence everywhere and it was driving her mad.

She gave a broken chuckle when she thought of that, eliciting a strange look from Kohaku. Right now, she would have given everything just to feel his hand groping her ass. The she could slap him, feel his skin against hers, seen him sprawling on the ground with a smile on his face.

Sango would have given everything to see him, real and alive before her, feeling the burning sensation of her palm from connecting with solid flesh.

"Ane-ue?" He was confused now, peering quizzically up at her, wondering what the joke was.

She scrubbed roughly with her free hand at the tears which had unexpectedly welled up in the corner of her eye.

"Nothing, Kohaku… I was just remembering."

He nodded absently, picking at the hem of his kimono. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

Pulling him closer, Sango rested her forehead on his shoulder. "Don't be," she murmured. "You're alive and with me again. That's all I ever hoped for, I never dreamed we could be together again."

"You also hoped to live with Houshi-sama and raise your family together," said her brother accusingly. Involuntarily, both their gazes fell on Megumi.

"I did wish for that," she admitted. "But we cannot change the present. We can only accept what has happened and move forward in life."

His emotional barriers broke without warning and Kohaku's head sagged against her neck. "Why did it have to be this way… I'm sorry, Ane-ue!"

She wordlessly accepted his apology, stroking the back of his head in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Sango had precious little experience in soothing people: Miroku had always been the one comforting her, almost never the other way round. Kagome, her soul sister from the future was also a natural at this, with her warm, open nature and the uncanny ability to know the right things to say at the right time. Her daughter mewled, annoyed at being woken from her nap and Sango bounced her until she quietened.

Once Kohaku had calmed down, Sango broke away from him, cupping his face in one hand.

"We can't dwell here in the past filled with regret for the rest of our lives. We have to be strong, Kohaku. Houshi-sama would have wanted that for the both of us."

Fervently, she hoped her words would bring comfort to them both, siblings united both blood and suffering.

"Yes, Ane-ue."

Standing up, he wiped the last of his tears away and faced the grave; straight-backed and proud. "Goodbye, Houshi-sama."

He made to go but paused when he noticed Sango was not following. "Ane-ue…?"

"You go on first, Kohaku. Megumi and I will be home soon."

"Alright… Inuyasha-sama and Kagome-sama are staying for dinner tonight. Do you want me to take her?"

She shook her head. "It's okay."

Sango waited until the top of his ponytail had disappeared over the top of the hill before she approached the grave marker again, almost reverently.

"Houshi-sama," she whispered, reaching out to trace the kanji carved on the stone – Miroku. Her fingers traced the flowing lines of each character, still sharp and fresh. "It'll be a full year since you left next month. Time flies, doesn't it?"

Sango brought Megumi closer to the marker, guiding her hand to touch the kanji too. The child squealed at the sensation of cold stone on her warm fingers.

"Our daughter's growing up so fast – you should have seen the way she was trying to walk the other day. She's going to grow up into a real beauty, the kind of girl you used to chase. I can tell I'm going to have a hard time with her future suitors: I'd need Hiraikotsu to fend the boys off … even though it never worked for you."

She smiled wistfully at the irony.

"Kohaku's slowly healing, getting better every day. Sometimes, it's as though he was never gone in the first place."

Reaching into her kimono, she drew out a length of sky-blue prayer beads. Sango fingered them, the cool sensation against her skin so achingly familiar. Megumi, nestled in her arms, cooed and reached out with fat fingers for the beads.

"Inuyasha and Kagome are happy too, though they miss you. They still argue a lot – then again, it's part of their relationship – but they always make up, in the end. I think you've talked with them when they came by earlier."

Her vision blurred with tears; she wiped them away, causing the beads to click as they slapped against each other.

"I'm getting better as well. It's hard, you know, learning to live again after losing someone like you. It hurts so much."

The prayer beads fell from between shaky fingers right into Megumi's hands.

"Sometimes, I wish you didn't have to go. I wish I could have both of you by my side."

She gently pried the beads from her daughter's mouth, her fingertips caressing each one of the smooth, carved beads, each one triggering a memory of him. Some of them were painful, some pleasant. Some were recalled with tears, some made her smile.

"You don't know how many times a day I wish you were alive, and we were living together in my village. I would have borne you as many children as you wanted." Her voice broke a little and she dropped a kiss on the top of a puzzled Megumi's head, the beads trembling in her hand. "I promised you I would."

Sango raised the beads to her lips, kissing the strand. More tears, valiantly held back earlier for Kohaku's sake, fell freely on them.

"The pain doesn't ease with time, no matter what they all say. But I'm getting used to a world without you, Houshi-sama. You know, the other day I thought I saw you in the village and I ran after you. Turned out it was just another wandering houshi. Silly, isn't it?"

She knelt and coiled the prayer beads at the base of the headstone where it joined a purple glove, an inkstone and a bundle of ofuda. The articles were faded and worn, both by the elements and by frequent use.

"Every time I come, I gather the strength to return a piece of you here."

As Sango bent forward, a heavy ring fell from inside her kimono and swung in midair. His ring, far too big for her slender fingers, had been hung on a chain given to her by Kagome. The miko from the future had understood without Sango needing to say anything, merely handing her a small box the next time she had returned from her era. The slayer's hand came up, touching the ring, running her fingers over the grooves and lines cut into the metal.

"But I think I'll keep this, Houshi-sama. I get to keep at least one memento of you, as your widow."

Leaning forward, Sango placed a kiss on the carved characters of his name. Dabbing at her face with the sleeve of her kimono, she stood.

"I have to go. I'll see you again next month, Miroku. I love you."

Sango never spoke his name other than times like this. It was her personal tribute to him. He had so loved hearing his name from her lips, an occurrence which was rare when he was alive. His name had been taboo for a long time after his death, Inuyasha and Kagome falling into an awkward silence whenever it was mentioned inadvertently. It saddened her, not hearing his name being spoken, making her feel as though he had completely vanished from existence.

Saying his name helped her through the uphill struggle that was now her life. She knew she would make it; she was nothing if not a survivor, after all. Plus, it was not as though she was alone.

Miroku's death hurt her all the more because of its nature. They both knew they were running on borrowed time, the threat of his Kazaana looming overhead but their love had been sweet while it lasted. Sango had long ago accepted she might lose him to it. The Kazaana, she accepted as a mystical force and she realized there was no conceivable way she could fight it.

But it had not been his end. He had died purging the evil from her brother's body. It hurt when she thought about it, like being forced to choose between her brother and her lover.

Sango shook her head as she tried to clear her mind of the memories and guilt. She lifted her head and closed her eyes as a gentle breeze picked up. It caressed her skin and hair gently like a lover, drying the tears on her face. Megumi squealed happily as it tickled her hair.

"Miroku?"

She was certain it was him, come back to visit them, just as they had come to visit him. The wind blew in her ears in reply, lifting her loose ponytail. It tugged at the white hair ribbon and eventually pulled it free of the knot she had tied.

Sango watched as her ribbon was carried away by the breeze, a small smile touching her features.

"You can have that, you lecher," she said teasingly. "Kami, I almost miss having you grope me. I guess I've been hanging around you too much."

The slayer waited until the ribbon was out of sight before turning and walking away.

The love they had shared was brief but the bond was unbreakable. He had gathered the many pieces of Sango's heart and soul, healing her, making her whole. Miroku had given her many things, but the last things he had given her was her brother's life and her daughter. The final gifts of his love.

The fabric, worn by many years of use, drifted in the wind, being tossed and turned by the current. It flew on until a hand clasped it.

A transparent hand wearing a purple glove. Strangely, the flawless skin of the palm hinted it did not really need the covering. Loose purple fabric dangled from the hand, obviously lacking a means of tying back the covering over its palm.

Miroku took the white ribbon and bound it around his middle finger, clumsily securing the cloth covering.

"Ah, Sango," he sighed. "This is better than nothing, I suppose, love."


End file.
